Brilliant, Isn't She?
by POPpop
Summary: Set approximately two minutes nine seconds after "Exit Wounds". Tosh left another message, for Ianto only, and, as always with Torchwood, things were not as they seemed.


_**This came out of nowhere, in the spur of a moment. I'm not quite ready to let Tosh go.**_

_**Set about two minutes after the end of "Exit Wounds".**_

_**Rated for a naughty word.**_

**_I own nothing. Of course I don't._**

To her credit, Gwen held out much longer than Ianto had thought she would. Earlier that day he had contemplated pulling out the stopwatch to see just _how_ long, and then had to suppress the urge to laugh. What was wrong with him? Tosh and Owen gone, lost, _taken _and he wanted to laugh. He'd remarked to Tosh, not long ago really, that she was warped on the inside. Perhaps it had rubbed off. Of course it had.

Gwen really had been quite "stiff upper lip" when she came through the cog door that morning, ready to begin the standard clean-up. Now of course her swollen lower lip had betrayed her. As soon as Tosh's farewell was over and it went all a-tremble they all three knew her battle was lost: She gave it up and sagged onto Jack, her beautiful face wet with exhausted tears. Jack gave Ianto's shoulder one last squeeze and then buried his hand in her dark hair, supporting her weight in a metaphor of the solid reassurance she needed. He met Ianto's eyes and the Welshman nodded, a corner of his mouth quirking into a half smile. The two shared brief exchange in eye-speak. That dialect in pupils and iris'. They were both quite fluent – particularly Ianto. Ianto could hold whole conversations with a blink, and would too, with anyone who bothered to actually _look._ He could do other (wonderful) things with his marvelous storm-coloured eyes as well – but these things were reserved for Jack's own eyes only.

_She's tired, _his eyes said now. _Take her away from here. Buy her ice-cream. Cry to let her know that its okay. Mix your tears over a curry. Then wipe away the salt and make-up smudges and let her do the same for you. (Don't act so surprised and don't bother denying it, Mister Maybelline) Be her friend and I'll do here what I do best. Then let her husband take over his job and come back so we can help each other, cause we're good at that._

Very vocal with his eyes, he was.

Jack kissed him softly on the forehead and they left, leaning on each other, by way of the invisible lift – just in case they weren't _quite_ ready to be seen by unknowing society when they reached the open air.

There wasn't a whole lot to do, really; they'd mostly finished the job, just a couple odds and ends. Ianto took care of these and then decided what he really needed was to expel the laugh-bubble he still had caught in his throat. So he used Gwen's computer to access Youtube and spent a pleasant half hour with the delightful Potter Puppet Pals. It was shameful and illicit. Jack would have loved it of course, but Ianto had resolved long ago to never intentionally reveal this to him because he knew that "Naked Time!" would reverberate through the Hub at _least _four times a day and Jack did _not_ need another reason to strip.

Before logging off, Ianto checked his email. He really should have done so earlier, in case his mam had caught wind of the Cardiff explosions from her vacation house and if he didn't respond he was in for it. There was no email from Jones. There was one from Toshiko Sato. It had been sent exactly two hours and nine minutes previously – the exact time Gwen and Jack had departed. Ianto closed his eyes briefly, took a deep, cleansing breath, reached inwardly to stir up and revive the last dregs of his emotional strength, and clicked resoundingly on the link. Nothing happened. He scowled and double-clicked. _Fucking anticlimactic computers._

No video with her sweet, smiling face this time, just words. A pretty sort of loopy font though, a classy touch. Ianto let the laugh come easily this time. It felt very good.

_Ianto –_

_If you're getting this it means I've been killed recently and also that the others aren't currently in the Hub. I've picked you for this, not solely because you're the least likely to get a big head over being chosen. I've picked you because you are the friend who copes the easiest and whose face is usually the hardest to read. Funnily enough, as I type this you are strolling out of Jack's office stone-faced while he saunters out behind you grinning like a cat whats' got the cream. Jack either knocked you unconscious before snogging you or you are indeed very good at masking emotion. Course I'd love to see your face as you read this. Shame I'll be dead. Anyway, enough chat, I'm stalling. I'm stalling because I've just finished one of my "special projects" and it was perhaps something I shouldn't have done. Still, if it works…Anyway listen up._

Tosh was right, as per usual. Ianto's face as he continued reading was quite the spectacle. He'd have made an excellent mime had he stuck with drama class.

When he'd finished he leaned back in his chair, contemplating his next move. The first part of Tosh's request was…not an option. Still he knew what to do. Of course he did – he knew everything. Pulling out his cell phone he dialed a number and waited.

The phone connected. "Ianto? Oh please tell me nothing else has happened."

"Martha, I need your help."


End file.
